Strawberry Deaths
by HikaKiti
Summary: -spoilers, anime-verse- The Kira case is over. Light Yagami was Kira. Light Yagami is dead. The many, many people he killed have remained the same way - dead. Death is forever. So who can explain the sugar-coated strawberry, complete with hints of frosting, sitting innocently on Light's chest? (May or may not continue)


**Strawberry Death**

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_Chapter One_

"Well, Light, its looks like you've lost. Remember how, in the beginning when we first met, I told you that I'd be the one writing your name in my notebook. That is part of the agreement between a shinigami who brings a notebook to the human world, and the first human who picks it up. If they put you in prison, who knows when you'd die? And I don't wanna lie around waiting. So, it's all over. You die, here. It was good while it lasted. We eased each others boredom for quite a while."

"Well, Light. It's been interesting."

Ryuk chuckled darkly, threw open his wings, and rose off the spire of the tower on which he perched.

The last of the words fell on deaf ears. Or perhaps all of them did, in the madness that consumed the man of whom Ryuk spoke. Light was gone, from the moment the clock struck forty and those around him remained on their feet, remained alive. He had died, replaced with the sheer madness and frustration that fills someone who has lost everything. Surely he had at least been broken into pieces, a shattered mind, when bullet after bullet tore through his hand, his arm, his chest and stomach.

So as he lay, dead or so close to it, on the stairs, his eyes were wide and showing everything that crossed his mind. The poker face that had hid Kira from the world was gone, and now Light and the murderer were raw and unleashed, a turmoil of hate, of anger and fear and horror and then pure fury.

Light... was not going to make it out of this one. That much he knew. He knew that, unlike Misa, his shinigami cared nothing for him. He was interesting, but only as interesting as a particularly well-written show of television, or a dog that had learned a new trick.

And it would have been insulting if it had been any other way. Light Yagami was Kira. Kira would not ask help from anyone, not now, because he knew it was no use, and that would be no more helpful then begging a homeless person for a house to spend the night in. Kira was over. Light would soon be over as well. He knew. He knew, in the still-sane part of the raging storm that was his mind at the moment, that he was very well on his way to dying.

How had it happened? Where had he gone wrong?

It seemed his battle with L was ending. And he had _lost _the war. He won the most battles. But he lost the important ones. He didn't believe Near could do it. He laughed in the face of the coming danger. Laughed in the face of the truth. Laughed and laughed, and finally stopped laughing only to find that he was _loosing. _That he had _lost. _That the little teenager sitting in the floor playing with _toys _had seen through his most elaborate, most careful thought process. He was a fit successor to L, though Light would always believe that the latter was the greatest. L had known all along.

But no one believed him.

And Light had had plenty of time to kill the thin, pale detective. At least... enough time to set it up so that Misa would be in danger unless the oh-so-caring shinigami killed him.

Light had lost in the end, however. To a childish fool that had done nothing but copy the original.

And with bitter thoughts of his defeat, Light's eyes turned glassy and he stopped breathing.

Kira was dead.

It had been exactly six minutes and thirteen seconds since his bloodied chest had stopped moving. The chance he was dead – 99.5%. It was fairly likely, then.

And it was still a risk, prowling out from under the stairs like a stray cat. He padded up the stairs, shoulders slumped over and bare feet pressing against the concrete with not more sound than a whisper. One arm was tucked in the pocket of his baggy blue jeans, while the other balanced a small saucer, dotted with tiny crumbs. A rare and small smile graced his pale lips, not showing his teeth. It wasn't even really a smile, so much as a tug on the very corners of his mouth. He knelt down, his suspicions that the bleeding man was still alive fading, and his positivity that he was dead was complete.

"Tsk, tsk. I expected nothing more, nothing less. Thank you, friend. For making this my very favorite case, and most intriguing by far."

He picked the very last bit of something off his plate, raised it to his mouth to finish, and then tilted his head to the side, ruffled and messy black hair brushing his shoulder. With a sly pull of his lips he squatted down and placed the object on the corpse of the man.

Quickly rising back to his slumped stand, he tip-toed down the stairs and crept off, blending easily into the shadows with his silence.

Sitting there, nearly hidden by the splashes of red on Light's white shirt, was a sugar-dusted strawberry, complete with the slightest hints of frosting.

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_**A/N: **Well, I figured I may as well have a go at the Death Note fandom. First fanfic for this, and I'm hoping to keep everyone in character and have the story be realistic enough. I finished the anime, and only the anime. I'm just, JUST starting the manga, so if something doesn't quite fit with that, it's because this is going to be in the anime-verse._

_I assume that this... thing of which I am doing... has probably been done before. But I'm going to take a swing at it, and perhaps give it a certain HikaKiti twist. I hope dearly that you will review with your thoughts, as reviews help me feel inspired. Bring on the flames, I'll use them to cook you're little tush._

_Oh! And one last thing: this chapter is particularly short. In the future, chapters will be longer no doubt. Thank you._

_~Signing off, with much love~_

_Kiti._


End file.
